On Doing what One Can

A bit of rain to begin this warm, muggy late-summer morning. Now the sun is out, abet wanly, its light reflected off the puddles.

We have turned the corner of the year and are now headed into autumn. The goldenrod and ragweed came into flower a couple of weeks ago. Now the asters have joined the autumn chorus.

At the farmers”  market the peaches and plums are in and we try to arrive early to get some before they are sold out. In the garden, the deer have eaten all our tomatoes but left the chard and remnant peas. Jennie brought in the garlic yesterday and left it to dry in the garage, which now is filled with the heavenly, dense, fragrance of the freshly pulled cloves.

Here at home changes are in full swing. The house seems increasingly bare as things go into boxes; the renovations to the new house are going ahead at pace, and it might just be ready for our move in five weeks.

Over the weekend we visited several Southcoast artist studios where we introduced ourselves and chatted with some of the people who will become our new artists’ community. Much of the art work was engaging and we found ourselves imagining just where on our walls it might go. It was great to talk shop!

Inevitably, a few conversations veered to the political, and the question of what artists might contribute to the creation of a sane world. I was reminded of prophesy and the clear directive to do only what one can. Things will surely become more painful before they get better, and they will only improve if enough people do their part. I was taught that the prophesies are clear that the solution is a collaborative effort and no one can heal the world alone. Driving oneself to save the world is simply hurtful.

So as we move into autumn, the time of water and dreaming. May we slow down, gather ourselves, and dream together the reweaving and renewal of the world.